H O R I Z O N
Couldn’t the lad catch a break? All he seemed to run into was wolves that somehow always managed to disappear. First the wretch of a wolf who’d merely entertained the fire and spat insults in his face and then there had been Celeste. Now there was a lady that the fiery demon hoped to see again. Their little trade of stories had brought some form of elation that the brute hadn’t felt in years. He missed the sound of her voice and laughter tickling his audits, just as much as he missed the playful excursions during his travels to Blossom Forest. Because even for as much as Horizon hated the way he had left the Plains and disgraced himself and his family, there was no denying the sense of relief and freedom he got in exchange. It was as he had told his dearest Celeste,
The land from which I have escaped is a harsh and unforgiving place. The earth is scorched, the grass as dead as the souls which inhabit it—kalaks. Packs made solely of the fiery demon which you see before you. We were banished and cursed to serve the penalty of past treasons committed by fellow wolves. Our fur and bodies were once like your own, normal. Our burned palates are the mark of treason. Our stilts colored to match the black blood which we carry with us and our red fur to mark the life which we have stolen. But our eyes were the one thing that reminded us of our good deeds. Pure chocolate pools, each intricately shaded to uniquely single out every kalak for their quest of goodness. The royals had the most magnificent pools of mahogany, umber and sorrel. Nothing could match these distinguished colors.
Even if it was only tales to scare the pauper pups into behaving there seemed to be some truth in it. Horizon was an outcast in the castes of wolves and kalak’s alike. It didn’t matter where he went, there would always be someone to turn him away or attack him.
Horizon could feel himself lulling to sleep in the evening light, the darkness creeping from the depths of the trees threatening to pull him into their breadths. He wouldn’t have minded the shut eye but Horizon had spent most of his afternoon lazily lying around the field. The blackened stilts lifted the bloody boy from the ashy ground and stiffened as he shook out the soot, enshrouding himself in the reminiscent smoke. Horizon padded out of the cloud and proceeded to wander out of the barren wasteland towards a place better suited to the lurkers, like himself. Sacred Stones seemed a good enough place, and it wasn’t long before the emblem of fire had arrived in dusky light. The stones casted shadows dark enough to cover him in the dying light, but he took the care to wander and intermingle with the stones.
His audits perked at the whispering voices all around him. The stones seemed to warn him, but Horizon gave no heed to these sounds. Pushing away his gut feeling, there was someone darker than him, but the maned wolf saw no immediate threat and continued to weave around the stones enjoying the peace and solitude. At least while it lasted…
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